The Reluctant Princess
by kitsune21809
Summary: Slight AU. The story of a girl with a Celtic soul and a sorcerer descended from legends. Rating may change to M.


AU

The story of a girl with a Celtic soul and a sorcerer descended from Legends.

Author's Note: Um, how can I explain this without confusing people….? This story is not set in the Sofia the First universe as you know it. For instance, Sofia's past is different, though we don't really know a lot about it anyway, the way she goes about meeting Roland and such is new.

It's gonna be AU. I want to try and expand on the world around Enchancia, introduce new lands and creatures and people. I also want to delve deeper into Cedric's origins. Of course these are origins I created and are probably nowhere near canon. You'll likely see a lot of OOC'ness.

When I think of magic, I think of medieval, Celtic stuff. The story will be set around the medieval era, like you might read in a king Arthur story. I'll be taking inspiration from real life monarchs as well. This story is slow going. I started it in January and so far only have a chapter and a half, so I wouldn't be expecting updates to come quickly. Honestly, I have no idea where this is going but I've got something of a skeletal plot in my head. A couple of notes written down here and there.

Well, that's about it. If you have questions feel free to ask. Have fun reading.

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><p><strong><em>Sofia<em>**

She was ten when her mother had been summoned to court to serve as lady in waiting to Queen Cassandra. Her father, Lord Knightly of Fairburn, had suffered from consumption the previous winter and had died the following spring, leaving her mother a wealthy, young widow. And it was in the summer that Sofia found herself under the care of her maternal grandmother, the Lady Sonora of house Chesterfield.

It saddened her at first, to see her mother go. And for three long nights afterwards, she stayed curled in the window of the west tower where she, her two aunts, and three youngest cousins slept in sturdy oak beds separated by aged curtains and sheer screens. She stared wistfully through the clear section of stained glass, hoping to see her mother racing up the road, her steed kicking up a gale of dust behind in her haste. But by the fourth day, Sofia had convinced herself she had been abandoned and the woman was lost to her forever. She did not matter to her mother the way Miranda mattered to her and finally, Sofia allowed herself to cry.

But with the loss of one mother, Sofia received three to take her place, each of them scolding, teaching and cherishing something different about her. Each gave her different gifts and taught her different lessons. And under the mystical care of her new guardians, Sofia grew up as wild and spirited as the countryside around her.

While Miranda had given her birth and bequeathed to her daughter her own radiant beauty and splendid arrogance, Diana, her mother's eldest sister, taught her how to bake the softest bread and opened her arms to her whenever she needed a mother's warm embrace. Elizabeth, her mother's second eldest sister though still younger than Diana, listened to her troubles and provided wisdom when needed.

She learned the _old ways_ from her grandmother who was what they called a 'Wise Woman' or sometimes even a '_Wilde_ Woman'.

Sonora hailed from the Old Religion and understood how to talk to the wild animals and plants that grew about her high in the mountains. A child that grows up half-wild in the forest learns the secrets that grow there simply through common sense. For example: what is a mushroom and what is toadstool. How to tell the difference between lichen, moss, and creeper; between leaf, flower, root and bark. Throughout the endless reaches of the forest, the great oaks, strong ash, and gentle birch trees sheltered a myriad of growing things. Sonora knew where to find them, when to cut them, how to use them in a salve, ointment, or infusion. And it was this precious bit of knowledge that she passed down to her young granddaughter.

In early spring, on mist-shrouded mornings, Sofia would be taken into the forest, where Sonora taught her the study of herbs and medicines, how to identify the herbs and then, over long summer days, how to dry and store them. And she learned wondrous things; how, for instance, the herb hellebore, which was found growing on the banks of the river, bears a blossom pearly white and was blessed with the power to drive out evil spirits possessing the mind, but that its root was as black as night and could induce mental or bodily illness, even death.

She learned that angelica fights the Plague and that a mixture of mandrake and henbane kills pain and causes a person to sleep as though dead. All of this and much more she was made to keep in her head while her grandmother asked questions long into the night when all she wanted was to close her eyes and sleep.

"Knowledge is power, Sofia." She told her. "You may be thankful someday to have learned this."

And she _was_ thankful, especially on one summer's day when she had been playing in the stream with a handful of her cousins who also lived in Chesterfield house. Micah, Diana's son and the youngest of her cousins (being only a year older than herself) had swum far too close to a snake pit and had inevitably been bitten just below his right knee. While the other children shrieked in terror and ran urgently to their homes for help, Sofia had already begun pulling the writhing boy from the water. She ripped her dress and tied it tight above his knee to stanch the blood flow and slow the poison's deadly course towards his heart. Then, throwing almost half of her body over him to hold him steady, Sofia took the small pocket knife from his vest and cut the wound open so she could suck the poison free. By the time the elders made it to them, she was spitting the last of the foul tasting blood from her mouth and pressing sivera leaves over the wound. If not for her quick thinking, he surely would have died.

She had been heralded as a hero in the town and all who passed her by in the streets praised her for a job well done. And she and Micah had become near inseparable afterwards. But even with the vast amount of knowledge she had already learned, Sofia was not content. She spoke with the old women of the cottages till they tired of her, and she studied what manuscripts she could find in her grandfather's library and experimented with the plants on her own. There was always more to learn; and there was no shortage of work to be done.

Sonora was skilled as a midwife and often as she grew older, Sofia would accompany her in her duties. She learned what to do when the child presented itself feet first and what to do when the baby came too fast and the mother's flesh tore and festered. She learned how to keep a stillborn's mother from giving up her spirit in despair and how, when a mother died, to cut open the womb and save the child within.

Sofia brought to her cousins stories that made them weep and sigh and wonder. Of a mother who died and a father who sold the infant before her body was cold. Of a man who swooned at the death of a beloved wife. Of a women who cried blood for her dead child. She told of potions that worked a miracle upon one woman and seemed to kill another. Of an armless monster sold to gypsies. There were triumphant stories too. Of healthy twins, of a baby born blue, the cord wrapped tight around its neck brought to life by Sonora, who sucked the death from the little one's nostrils with a river reed.

Sometimes, Sofia made her cousins laugh with imitations of women who roared like lions and others who held their breath and fainted rather than make a peep. Sofia became their link to the larger world. Along with tales of life and death, Sofia brought back new herbs for seasoning, recipes for unguents that healed wounds and ever stranger remedies to heal the sick and injured.

Her grandfather, Lord Godric, was away for much of the time, building alliances with neighbors, checking his stocks and merchants and finding suitors for his many daughters and granddaughters who were steadily coming of age. He was a man of solid build and stern appearance, and everything about him spoke of discipline. She could never tell what he was thinking, for his eyes gave nothing away. He wore his graying brown hair pulled tightly back and dressed plainly; yet still there was something about him that seemed to scream that he was a well-respected noble. Everywhere he went, from hall to courtyard, from sleeping quarters to stables, his two great wolfhounds padded silently behind him.

Sofia loved him, and he doted on her the most as she was the youngest. Because he had helped in the raising of so many girls before her, by the time Sofia had come into their care, he'd decided to simply let her roam free. He left her schooling and training to his wife and took to her like another one of his boys when she had proved to be less delicate than his other female charges.

Sofia spent her days as she wished when he was home, free from responsibility. She explored the forests, climbed the tall oaks, and conducted expeditions over the lake with Micah, staying out all night if they wanted. She learned from her oldest cousin, Eren, how to live off the land: how to hunt and track, how to start a fire even if the wood was damp and bake squash or onions in the coals. She could make a shelter out of bracken and steer a raft in a straight course. With a bow, she could hit a running rabbit from over a hundred paces and ride a horse like northman and the only one of all her cousins who could best her in a race was Eren, who had become as close to her as Micah.

But Micah was different from the rest of her cousins. Micah had always loved learning and would spend most of the time he didn't spend with her, with his tutor. She remembered those times very clearly. There would be Micah, seated on a bench beside his tutor, deep in debate on some fine point of language or philosophy. And there at the end of the table she sat, cross-legged on the surface and quiet as a field mouse as she separated a fistful of herbs ready to be dried and stored away. The two of them soaked up knowledge like little sponges. They learned, for instance, the language of the Aldarians to the east, a smooth, musical sort of speech that flowed over her tongue like water. Everyone had a story about the Aldarians, recognizable by their tall stature and dark features. Shrouded in mystery, very little was known about them though many tales had been woven claiming to be truths. Some claimed they were a people of sorcery, their blood-lines deep rooted in dark magiks and evil ways. Others said they were a race of fair-folk, which had fled the continent long ago when Aerys the Conqueror took possession of the land. Some even claimed they were a kingdom of thieves and gypsies congregating under a lawless king. It was her greatest dream that she might meet one of these elusive people one day.

Sofia had always heard that the east was different. It was said that manticores prowled the islands of the Black Sea, that basilisks infested the jungles of Tangu, that shapeshifters, sorcerers, and witches practiced their arts openly in Aldaria, while warlocks and necromancers worked terrible magic in the black of night. It was even said that Dragons inhabited the deep, crystal caves in the Blazing Palisades_._

It did not matter to Sofia that other girls her age were learning to do fine embroidery, to plait eachother's hair into intricate coronets, and to dance and sing. Others in the town regarded House Chesterfield warily and gave them a wide berth. Nestled safe among its guardian trees, hidden from the world by forces older than time, her home was indeed a world apart.

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><p>The winter of her thirteenth year, she met King Roland the Second of Enchancia for the first time when she was invited to court to join her mother in Yuletide celebrations.<p>

She was led by a tall, well dressed servant with graying hair to the great hall where her mother waited along with the royal family. The hall was decorated in all its finery, garlands strung from the windows and mantles, with great, golden candelabras shedding their light on the festivities. A feast of which she'd never seen before lay on one side of the room, while at the other, lords and ladies of the realm danced before a grand, roaring fireplace. At the end of the vast chamber, she could see seated upon his throne behind a long table, King Roland and the Queen beside him.

As she cast her eyes about the room, Sofia couldn't find her mother and she began to grow nervous. Her fingers twiddled in her soft auburn hair, tangling the meticulous braids her grandmother had so painstakingly weaved for her.

"Sofia?"

With a start, she turned, recognizing the voice immediately and hugged the woman who had sneaked up behind her. She was so beautiful, dressed in fine silks and jewels with her chestnut brown hair tied up in elaborate knots. Her blue eyes sparkled down at her. "I've missed you." The woman said, kissing her cheek. Sofia smiled and though she had been angry with her mother for so many years now, tears leaked at the corners of her eyes as she pressed her face into the folds of the woman's dress. "I missed you too, Mama."

It felt like it had been a century since she'd seen her, and Sofia felt she almost didn't recognize her under all the finery that court life had bestowed upon her. But her hugs were still as warm as the day she left, and her voice as sweet.

"You cut your hair." Her mother said, fingering the short locks that fell just below her ears. Sofia grimaced at the curious expression on her mother's face. She had always taken such pride in her daughter's hair, but to Sofia it had become a burden when Eren had beaten her with it in a sparring match. He'd used it to hold her back and press his blunt sword sharply into her throat. Grandfather had yelled at him for an hour when she cut it. She tugged at a lock by her ear that wasn't pleated against her cranium. "Yes…" She glanced timidly up at her. "Do you like it?"

Miranda smiled warmly at her. "It's lovely."

"Is this your girl?" A voice said after a few short minutes and when Sofia turned again, she found the King lingering by her mother's side. He was as incredibly tall as he was handsome. With refined features, shining yellow gold hair and piercing chestnut colored eyes. Her mother smiled and pulled her into her arms. "Majesty, may I introduce my daughter, Sofia." She leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Say hello to the king, darling."

Sofia smiled and gave a somewhat clumsy little curtsy to the man. "It's a pleasure to meet you." But in truth, she felt that maybe it was not a pleasure at all. Across the room, Sofia caught sight of the Queen who was watching them with cold, unforgiving eyes. Unease gathered in her stomach as she tore her gaze away and back to the king. "The pleasure is all mine." He said, taking her hand to bestow a kiss though his eyes remained on Miranda who blushed prettily under his gaze. As he straightened, he leaned over her and placed a hand at her mother's elbow. "I must speak with you." Sofia heard him whisper. As he left them, her mother turned to her, a tight smile concealing her thoughts as she patted her head. "I won't be long. Wait here for me." She said.

Sofia watched her disappear through the crowd and a little side door towards the back. All too suddenly, she noticed many eyes watching her and the uneasy feeling which had begun burning in her belly intensified. Whispers of 'that must be her' and 'whore's daughter' burned her ears. She turned away from them, going back towards the entrance where a little alcove nestled under a set of stairs stood empty and waiting for her. There were a few people scattered in the area, some drunk, some taking a reprieve from the festivities. They didn't pay her any attention as she slipped around them and settled on a stone bench under the stairs. She sighed and pushed her fingers through her hair. It seemed that the rumors surrounding her mother and the king were true. She had become his mistress during her stay here at the palace. Her knuckles shown white as she clenched them in her skirt and glared at the floor.

She didn't want to be there anymore. Suddenly, Sofia wanted nothing more than to be back at her grandmother's estate, safe from prying eyes and wagging tongues. She wished she were sitting at Sonora's feet while the woman wove tales about the northern mountains, frost giants and fair folk. Of dragons and the dragon lords who commanded them. The grip on her dress slackened as the stories replayed in her mind, her vivid imagination playing behind her eyes until she was lost in them.

A portly man with a curling beard stepped to the center of the room, clapping his hands to draw attention and making Sofia look up in surprise. He was saying something but from this distance Sofia couldn't hear. He pulled something from his sleeve: a long, slender wand and with a flick of his wrist, it began to snow. Sofia stared in amazement for she had very rarely seen magic performed before. The snow wasn't cold or wet as snow should be, neither did it melt when she touched it, but rather faded away as if it was never there to begin with. Somehow it lifted her spirits and she didn't feel so upset anymore. Pushing thoughts of her mother's clandestine lifestyle aside she smiled and swept her hand through the flakes, making them dance fervently before her eyes and giggled.

"Preening little showoff." Someone muttered to her left. She turned, a scowl on her face thinking that they were addressing her to find a boy only a few years older than her - fifteen maybe? - slouched against the wall. He wasn't even looking at her but rather at the sorcerer who had the misfortune of suffering under his heated glare. He was dressed neatly, showing his moderately high stature in society which told her he wasn't a servant although his hair was something new to behold, mismatched as it was. His white bangs conflicted with the rest of his dark locks which were pulled back into a tiny little ponytail at the nape of his neck. He had a long face; his jawline slanted at an angle and his long nose tilted upwards like an upside down bird beak. A raven perched on his right shoulder and he uncrossed his arms to scratch absently at the bird's ruffled breast.

"That's mean." She said and he turned to her surprised. She was momentarily surprised at the gleaming amber of his eyes. She'd never seen eyes _that _color in anything but animals. He glared at her. "Well it's true! He's not so great behind those cheap tricks." He scoffed. "It's not even real _sorcery_. Anyone can do that!"

Sofia thought it was cruel how this boy was judging the sorcerer. From what she could tell, he seemed very nice, even conjuring a few flowers for a little girl who stood before him clapping gleefully. She glared at the boy. "Well I think he's wonderful!" She said crossing her arms. "And just who are you to judge people like that anyway?"

He looked irritated that she was even talking to him to begin with, yet when the words left her mouth he looked downright furious. His shoulders hunched and even his bird, which had thus far been quiet, turned to glare at her. "I'm…!" He fairly boomed in anger and then as quickly as fire roared to life behind his heated gaze, it seemed to die shortly after. He sighed sullenly and his glare melted into an irritated scowl as he turned away again. His head sunk back against the wall as he muttered. "…nobody important."

Hearing the way his voice withered at the end made her feel incredibly guilty at having hurt his feelings like that and she started to apologize. "Hey, I didn't mean…"

He glanced at her but then a hand clamped down on her arm, pulling her away. "Sofia! I told you to wait for me!"

She turned back to him as her mother led her away. His eyebrow quirked curiously and a little smirk settled on his face as if he knew something she didn't and then he was gone. Her eyes widened as only traces of a dark green, smoky substance lingered in his place and the pieces to his mysterious behavior seemed to meld together if only a little bit.

She didn't see that boy again for another four years and by that time she had already forgotten the entire incident.


End file.
